The problem is the systematic destruction of the kabinett warehouse, the horeum, and the mixing of crappy replicas with the highly charged objects, so the good ones are not able to be found and catalogued.

I started thinking that there might be a twist. The organization behind this replacement with false items: that organization seems to be the enemy. But could it be that this way may be the only method to keep and preserve the good items and magical cabinets.

Was the enemy the group I was working for, those trying to find and preserve the perfect kabinett? Once it was found and isolated, it could easily be destroyed, or its contents perverted for another, darker, purpose. And that dark purpose? keeping everyone in the dark, so they entertain themselves to death, losing individuality in the mass manipulation. Who is doing the manipulating though? it must be some sort of an aggregate of humanity devolving into mud before rising up once again. Joyce’s moodmud.

Yet this is only one aspect of the story. I was learning to create my own magical collection within. But an individual cannot do that without others, without community to affirm and without the “college of witches” who verify reality by holding a graduation ceremony with robes and regalia taken from the hidden kabinett.

I wonder if this might be an internal process, like alchemy. Therefore the community to be trusted is a timeless one that has existed on earth and beyond earth. Perhaps it is a league that is nearly godlike but unseen by all those who are not ready to connect?

The challenges of earth, water, fire, air, and ether must all be met. Each brings its own reward. Each can become a person who is a helper in the quest. Also an obstacle. From nature and from human nature.

So in earth she is suspicious, stubborn, lies around a lot, heavy, cold, sleeps in, empty. Then she becomes gold, expansive, generous, transformed. Humble, feet.

In the water section she is despairing, power plexus, flood, crying, depression, feeling too much, moody, downward. Until the flow directs as it should to the great ocean and the moon’s sight. At night, mutable, brilliant, reflective, shimmering, wise, willing, empathic.

Then anger, energy and fire, rage and explosive, volcanic fury, destruction, cleansing. Burned out, the warm, loving, heart’s searing becomes love’s power. Heart radiance like the sun. She learns to harness power for good. whole hearted,

Then in the third eye, or head and throat – air, breath, wind, hurricane, tornado, strong wind whips up everything – upside down. Air permeates all and expands all directions through to space. Intelligent and aware, laughter and fun, life’s joys, glad! like a flying bird – free.

Ether, essence of all, has no opposite. It includes them all. Passive. Resolution. What is, is. What will be, will be. What has been? joins in all. This instant.

Shuddering back through all time, forward to all to come, beyond time, there stands the initiator, she who embodies for the seeker all necessary energies to activate the divine qualities. She opens her arms. The sun shines from her head and breast, the moon is a crescent bowl at her sex, her feet are the earth itself and her eyes and third eye radiate powerful intelligence. All these are beams that hit me in mirror image of her. “Wisdom”. The air rings and rings. We are in a spiral of light as she disappears. I am left standing on earth, arms outstretched, and it is as if the moon were a crescent bowl at my sex, the sun a powerful orb radiating from my heart and head, the beams of brilliant intelligence shoot from my eyes and my third eye is a halo circle seeing all simultaneously.

As I look down, the eyebeams create a small goldwoven amulet. It rises to my throat as a necklace, and the other beams entangle with it; it holds them woven into its filigree.

There now. All that is left is this little gold pendant, just like any piece of jewellery. I step out of the spell and the pendant disappears, dissolved. The air particles move in the sunbeam as I sit now, “What just happened?” The invisible college, the community of the wise, the caravan of the Sufis, the illuminated souls – all form this embodiment of the spirit of guidance. And I adore her. I cannot draw, but I tried, to show the intricacy of the interdimensional code held in the gold amulet. It was as if its form was stamped into my forehead, like a cartouche, to be forever guiding my way through life’s labyrinth. But I could not draw its form. It shifted and moved, vectors realigning, changing size and proportion.